


It's hard to be alone when you're alive

by bchekov



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-21 00:34:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13729362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bchekov/pseuds/bchekov
Summary: He thinks about how he hasn’t slept for days; how his mother was crying and how he himself was too. The fact that his father probably hates him now and that for once they have something in common.





	It's hard to be alone when you're alive

He’s watching the rain fall through his bangs. It is pouring; each drop that hits his face feels like a rock yet he cannot bring himself to move. His limbs are heavy and uncooperative, much like his mind, and just breathing is a lot of effort.

Distantly, he wonders how easy it would be to just _stop_.

“Killua!” someone cries from behind him, barely audible over the rain.

He doesn’t turn to look.

“KIllua, what’s wrong?” a gentle hand is placed on his shoulder and he shudders, not entirely sure whether it’s because of the sudden warmth or something else. “Tell me.”

He thinks about how he hasn’t slept for days; how his mother was crying and how he himself was too. The fact that his father probably hates him now and that for once they have something in common. He opens his mouth to relay it all, but closes it just as fast. He decides to keep the burning words behind locked lips, not wanting to poison the only light in his life.

The rain starts to fall harder. It serves as a reminder that they are still outside. The hand on his shoulder slides down to his own and tugs at it. “Let’s go inside.”

Only when he finds himself looking up at the tiny house that is Gon Freecss’ home does he realize where his legs had taken him.

Once inside he is greeted by a harsh light that make his head ache and his chest clench uncomfortably; he tries leaning over slightly to avoid looking directly at it. Not paying attention to his surroundings he is caught off guard by a towel abruptly being thrust into his hands, followed by a loud gasp when he looks toward the source.

Gon is standing in front of him, his own towel around his neck, looking distressed. Mito is looming by the staircase, appearing equally as distressed. It makes his head spin.

“Killua…” Gon begins, but stops himself when he sees the cut on Killua’s face. His face hardens as he reaches for it. Killua closes his eyes to prepare for the touch, but it never comes. When he opens them the other has already turned away. 

He wordlessly starts to dry his hair, watching Mito and Gon have a silent conversation with only facial expressions and the occasional nod, when his vision suddenly fails him for a few moments, and he almost collapses. This seems to trigger something as a stoic Gon takes his hand again and pulls him in the direction of the living room. He has Killua sit on the couch and proceeds to join him, still holding his hand. Mito seemingly appears out of thin air with first aid kit and crouches before him. 

“I’m going to clean the wound on your face, is that alright with you?” she asks gently and rests her hand on his knee. It’s warm, like Gon’s.

He wants to shout at her that he’s not a child anymore, tell her that he’s not the fragile being she thinks he is, but doesn’t do either. Instead he nods and averts his eyes. She smiles at him and gets to work. It stings a little when she disinfects it, and his eyes water, but it’s over before he can say anything. Satisfied, she trails her fingers along the band aid to prove a point.

“See? That wasn’t so bad, right?” he doesn’t reply. She doesn’t mind. “Do you have any other injuries?” he shakes his head a little too quickly. She furrows her eyebrows and opens her mouth to demand he tell her, but sees the way he’s cradling his abdomen and decides to use a different approach.

“Killua,” she says, a bit more firmly. “will you take your shirt off?” He keeps his gaze on his feet. Her face softens and she tries to smile reassuringly at him. “… Please.” she adds when he doesn’t reply.

A few moments pass by before he croaks a quiet, “Alright.”

The moment his shirt comes off, she feels like all air is squeezed out of her. His torso is littered with bruises, some even the size of a fist. The largest one though, by far, is the one on his lower abdomen. If she had to guess she’d say someone, or _someones_ , had kicked him repeatedly.

It makes her sick to her stomach to think about, and from the looks of it, Gon feels the same; his jaw set and free hand clenched, blinking rapidly to keep his emotions under control.

She quickly puts herself back together and meets Killua’s eyes. The sight breaks her heart. He too is trying to hold back tears. It makes her want to protect him; gather him in her arms and hold onto him forever, but he’d never let her do that. Too proud and afraid of showing weakness, conditioned to shut out unnecessary emotion. It breaks her heart even more to think about. 

“Who did this to you?” she asks, even if she knows the answer. Killua shrugs.

“No one.”

“What happened to your face?” she tries.

“I cut myself shaving.”

“What about the bruise on your shoulder?”

“I tripped.”

The excuses roll off his tongue with little difficulty. He always has them in the back of his mind whenever he looks at his battered body, used to people asking. She asks him a couple of more questions, desperate for the truth. He can see it in her face.

He’s ashamed to admit it, but it feels liberating to finally say them aloud and have someone obviously denying them. Someone who _knows_.

“Killua,” she sighs deeply. “I need you to be honest about this.”

“... I am honest.” another sigh.

“What about the bite marks on your arms?"

“I did those myself.”

Something in the way he says it makes her freeze and he realises he slipped. He rips his hand from Gon’s and is about to storm out when something yanks at him, pulling him into a warm side as an arm came around him. He tilts his head up to protest, yell, do _something_ but any word that he might voice died on his tongue at the look on Gon’s face.

Even with his cheeks were tear stained and new ones were on its way, eyebrows turned upward, he manages to look furious. So much that Killua almost flinches away.

But he won’t, because this is Gon and he would never hurt him.

“Can we continue this tomorrow?” he starts calmly, but there’s fire behind his words. “I don’t think I can do this right now.”

Mito nods mutely and moves aside to let the boys pass but not before giving Killua’s knee a reassuring squeeze. “Okay,” she starts, “I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

“Thanks, aunt Mito. We’ll let you know.” Gon shoots her a shallow smile.

“Yeah, thanks.” Killua glances at her over his shoulder one last time before disappearing around the corner.

They make their way up the stairs in silence and Killua suddenly feels so very tired.


End file.
